


The Rude Awakening

by tangerine (arte)



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, It's Misha's turn now, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, Season/Series 09 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha came to a sudden halt, his mind going completely blank.</p><p>The Bunker.</p><p>He was in the actual Men of Letter's Headquarter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My love for the episode the French Mistake led to this fic. Think of Misha in this fic as another Meta!Misha. Bits and pieces of information from conventions including recent Jibcon5 would be used but not necessarily in orderly fashion. Well, hope you enjoy the fic!

Misha woke as a beam of light hit his face mercilessly. He groaned and clutched his head. It felt like he had been mauled by a wayward truck. What happened? He tried to steady his head enough to think. 

There was a... party. To celebrate the first convention after the season 9 finale. There were drinks all around, but surely he hadn't drank so much as to induce this severe a hangover? He knew how to moderate... he thought.

He wrecked his brain for more information. Osric and his Mystery Mix came to his mind. Osric had enthusiatically recommended the drink, saying that he'd gotten it from a friend. The reception had been less than stellar, however, for the drink sported a disturbing shade of neon green. Misha had bravely volunteered to be the first subject, his curiousity getting the better of him. And then...

Nothing.

Misha blinked in disbelief. That was... _That was it?_ One drink from the kid and he was just gone? He half groaned, half chuckled. The crew would never leave it down. He could practically see thousands of jokes involving his inability to hold a drink churning out in the futhre. Well, at least he got owned by Master Chau, so there was that.

Memory successfully sorted, Misha cautiously looked around his surroundings. He was propped against a hard surface. In front of him were set of stairs that led to, well, somewhere. He couldn't see much from his sitted position, but he had no intention of standing up as of yet. It was weird though that there were no tall buildings around. 

Just where did the guys dumped his drunken ass off to? If no one was nearby, ready to shout surprise and take him back to the hotel, he's gonna some serious words.

Then again, he mused as he absently massaged his temple, this place was weirdly familiar. Maybe it was- his thought got abruptly terminated as he was shoved forward. Only his quick reflex saved him from unceremoniously kissing the ground. Christ, what the hell.

"Cas?! What are you doing here?"

Familar voice shouted behind him. He turned back, and sure enough, there was Jensen behind the half opened door. That explained the sudden shove.

"Rolling in the dirt," Misha dryly informed in a voice that showed how unimpressed he was with this whole situation. Placing him in front of the door was a serious dick move. It gave a whole new meaning to rude awakening. He considered standing up, but just shuffled enough to get away from the door and face Jensen.

"Cas, you okay? What happened to your clothes?" Jensen said in a weary, worried tone.

Misha checked his clothes. There was nothing wrong with them, same old dark shirts and pants that he wore before. They weren't even rumpled too badly, considering. 'What do you mean,' he was about to ask but his brain suddenly caught up with the word, _Cas_. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Jensen. What in the world was he playing at? Well, whatever it was, Misha was not going to get flustered. He had mastered the art of trolling and bullshitting ages ago. Two could play the game.

"I was informed that the coat was giving 'a serious creep vibe'. A young woman told me that if I was going to stare at children playing, then I should at least get rid of the tench coat screaming pedophile," Misha deadpanned in his Castiel voice, waiting for Jensen to crack up and reveal his plan. Instead, what he got was an expression of disturbed bemusement, the look Dean would give to Cas when he said something bluntly inappropriate.

"Wow, Cas, that's all it took for you to change your wardrobe? Would have been good to know," Jensen joked, but there was something under the voice. Like he was unsettled by the sudden change. Just like Dean would have been if he was in this position. Whatever kind of prank the man was trying to pull, he was determined to see through it. Odd. Jensen was like a rock on set, but usually, when they were just joking around, it was easy enough to crack him up. It looked like this game of pretend was going to go on longer than Misha had originally thought.

"I require Advil and coffee," Misha said, repressing the urge to add, 'You asshole, see what I would do to you the next time you get a hangover'.

"Since when do you drink coffee?" Jensen gave a strange look. "Wait, were you on a bander?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Misha wasn't in the mood to elaborate. He seriously needed some damn caffeine. So he just gave him a _Bitch, please_ look. It was appropriately Cas-like retort, in his opinion, considering that Castiel's life consisted of one shit happening after another without giving him a break. Misha briefly wondered if he would get to play drunken Cas again in season 10. Maybe Demon Dean would offer a drink?

"Okay, wait here," Jensen said as he disappeared behind the door. Soon, he returned with a glass of water, a bottle of Advil, and... was that a knife and the Borax? At Misha's disbelieving look, Jensen said defensively. "Look, man, it's not that I don't trust you. But the sudden wardrobe change, the way you left last time- I just, I just have to check, you know?"

Misha was getting seriously annoyed, and at the same time, uneasy now. Did Jensen somehow go insane since last night? Or was it a devious plan to get him worked up over nothing? Deciding that more in depth thought would at least need an Advil in his system, he made a gimme motion. He swallowed the pill down with water and poured the Borax on his hand.

The knife was still offerred at him.

Misha glared at Jensen. He was definitely going to tell the fans what kind of shit his co-worker made him go through. There would be a picture evidence on twitter. He grabbed the knife. Castiel would have slashed his wrist without a thought, but Misha was not interested in shading any more blood than strictly necessary. Giving a very pointed look, he slowly dragged the knife across his thumb, making a tiny nick.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. "Bitchy today, aren't you? Just take the whole bottle and come in."

As Misha followed Jensen, it belatedly came down to him that he had no idea where the hell he was. Judging by the stairs, it was somewhere under ground, but that was all he knew. How did Jensen even find this place?

Misha came to a sudden halt, his mind going completely blank.

The Bunker.

He was in the fucking Men of Letter's Headquater.

He hadn't noticed before, because Castiel usually just appeared directly inside the Bunker. Misha was used to working on the indoor set, so it hadn't really crossed his mind that the actual Bunker would have the door that led to outside.

The terrifying thing was, the Bunker didn't exist. Not really. Yes, there was the location where they shot the outside of the Bunker, but if you were to open the door, it certainly wouldn't lead to this spacious, well-lit place.

Was this some kind of a fan work? Misha's brain went to over-drive. He knew he was being ridiculous. As dedicated as the fans were, it was realistically impossible to build this kind of place in 2 years. But the other possiblity- that was beyond ridiculous. It was down right insane.

"Cas, you coming?" Jesen inquired. Or was it De- no, he was not going there. He was going to call the man Jensen unless proven otherwise. Oh God, what was his world coming to? Misha forced himself to move. He couldn't speak. Jensen looked like he might say something, but shook his head and led him to the kitchen.

"Hey, Cas," Sam- Jared greeted him as he stood up from the table. He blinked in surprise "What happened to your clothes?"

Did they share a script or something? He couldn't deal with this. "I need coffee," Misha rasped.

"What?" Jared sounded bewilderedly amused. "You drink coffee?"

"Yes," Misha said with a note of finality.

"Leave him be, Sam, the guy was on a bender." Dean said as he poured the coffee. The brothers exchanged a look. No, Misha mentally corrected, not brothers, they were just co-workers.

Oh, who was he even kidding. He needed coffee.

As soon as Dean, Jensen, whoever gave him the cup, Misha took a huge gulp. Thankfully, it wasn't scalding, but it was hot enough to let him know that he wasn't hallucinating or dreaming. He gathered his thought, unashamedly hiding behind the mug. He took a few steps away from the two other men, surreptitiously putting the table between him and the guys. If they were really who he thought they were, they were going to react badly and he didn't want to be inside of their attacking range, just in case.

Finishing the coffee, he resolutely stared at the two of them. Pity there was no easy way to do this.

"Jensen, Jared, if this is a prank, I need you to stop this. You guys won. This is driving me crazy. You have to stop," he said steadly enough, no longer using his Castiel voice.

There were few seconds of blank, tense incomprehension, and then-

"Who the hell are you?" Dean- yes, there was no doubt that this was Dean- growled, the silver knife in his hand. Misha was so glad for his foresight. He raised his arm slowly, showing that he had no weapon. Well, except the mug. If things turned truly hectic he was going to chuck it at them.

"My name is Misha Collins. You've met me before." Technically, it wasn't true, but one thing at a time. He didn't want to die at the hand of a fictional character.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean we've- wait," his expression turned incredulous. "That actor from the Bizzaro World?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"But you were dead," said Sam, eyes wide. "The angel killed you."

"Yes, no one ever came back from death before," Misha automatically quipped, then cursed himself. This was not the time. "Sorry, it's just really hard to explain."

Dean lowered his weapon, but he still looked wary. "Well, if you really are the actor you claim to be, then you know how many difficult to explain things we've went through."

"Of course," Misha nodded, shoving down the corner of his mind that was freaking out at the fact that he was in the Supernatural world. "There was this episode, The French Mistake. Sam and Dean came to the alternate universe where they were TV show characters because of Balthazar's spell."

"You mean..." Sam said, comprehension lightening his eyes.

"Yes, I acted out the scene in which Misha Collins got killed by one of Raphael's angel."

"Fuck," Dean's short but emphatic word echoed in the deafening silence that had descended to the kitchen. "Great. Just in how many fucked up worlds are our lives a TV show?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dean went out. 

Apparently, the man had been about to go grocery shopping when he'd found Misha blocking the front door. Dean was understandably reluctant to leave Misha alone with Sam in the Bunker, but needs must. To quote him, there was nothing to eat in the house except for some half-assed beer and he needed goddamn good booze to handle the conversation to come.

Misha agreed. If he hadn't been transported to the world where pretty much every angel and demon had grudge against his counterpart, and if he hadn't been still suffering from his lingering hangover, he would also have gladly succumbed to the temptation. Instead, he was just morbidly staring at the black coffee on the table.

"You okay there, uh, Misha?" Sam asked as he settled on the chair across from him.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just," Misha waved his hand vaguely. "I'm all for embracing a little crazy in life, but this is above my pay grade."

"Isn't it always," Sam snorted. Then he leant forward, his face going earnest. Misha recognized a good cop interrogation face when he saw one.

"So, about how you came here-"

"Sam," Misha interrupted him with an apolegetic smile. "I'm sorry, but can we wait until your brother come back? I, I don't think I can go through this twice."

Sam seemed to be a bit reluctant, but nonetheless backed off with a sympathetic nod. A wonderful perk of being with one of the 'good guys', that. They give you space to think without going all Spanish Inquisition on you.

To be honest, Misha was playing up his freak-out a bit. Sure, he'd been almost petrified when he first realized that he was in the fantasy world that should not exist, but the shock eventually tapered off. Maybe it was the denial speaking, or maybe it was all that 'what would happen if you and Cas switched places' kind of questions he got in conventions, but all things considered, his brain was working surprisingly well. Exhibit one - Relying on Sam's sympathy to buy himself some time to think.

First and foremost, Misha had to find a way to get back to Vicky and kids. Well, that was easier said than done, for his only option at this point was praying for the best. Everything depended on the current situation. For one thing, if Castiel wasn't being controlled by Naomi, he could ask for the angel's help. If brainwashing was on going, he could either a) help Cas get uncontrolled, b) just ask anyway, or c) start raiding Men of Letter's resources for answer. In case Gadreel was around, he could try wheedling him for answer. 

The trickier part was deciding how much he was going to talk about the storyline. Judging by the brothers' relatively easy air around each other and Sam's healthy looking complexion, this was either sometime around season 8, possibly right before Gadreel got kicked out, or far beyond season 9. Misha was kind of hoping for the final option, because he could be just honest in that case. The other two cases were more headache inducing.

If the boys found out that he came from the future, so to speak, they would want information, especially when things got desperate later on. It would feel good to help them out for sure, because he knew how much crap the Winchesters had to deal with. On the other hand, Misha didn't know what the hell was going on. He wasn't Jeremy. Season 8 and 9 were full of intertwining threads. The tablets, Naomi, Metatron, Gadreel, Abaddon, Crowley... The means to end one threat directly led to another down fall. He didn't know at which point he could safely step in. And considering how much Castiel messed things up with his good intention, Misha thought wryly, there was high chance that any kind of meddling would lead to apocalyptic end. 

Then again, to be silent when he knew what was to come didn't sit well with him either. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. The story of Supernatural. This was why the fate of the world riding on handful of heroes sucked when it became personal. There was no clear, convenient plots to guide you.

Misha rubbed his face. He was starting to overthink. Hopefully things would sort itself out without making him get too involved with the whole Heaven and Hell business. Yeah, one could hope.

 

-

 

Dean chucked a cereal box into the cart, not really caring what brand it was. Shopping for groceries definitely didn't count as running. It was just what needed to be done. 

That said, it was nice to put some distance between him and that actor guy. It was.. it was just wrong; his voice, his posture, his fear showing in his face, everything. The guy was wearing his friend's face and yet he was acting in a completely different way.

What rattled Dean - if he would admit to himself that he was rattled, that is - was not just that difference. After all, Jimmy hadn't been this bad. It was the way that man effortlessly pulled off Cas' mannerisms. The last time he met the actor, the different Misha Collins, he was too distracted by the Bizzaro World vibe and later his own poor attempt at acting to fully register the fact. But seeing this complete stranger, who wasn't a shaftshifter or a Leviathan that he could simply gank, knowing enough about Cas to fool Dean for a minute, it didn't sit well.

If Cas had been around, he would have laughed it off. Hell, he could have even enjoyed it, for all the potential comedic value it had. The problem was that the angel was not answering any of his prayers. The guy confessed to him that he might kill himself off if he ever got to see Heaven again, and freaking disappeared on Dean to go to Heaven of all places with his kid brother's corpse in his hands. 

When he'd found Cas sprawled down on his front door, after initial surprise, he had been so fucking relieved. The sudden wardrobe change was worrying, but the watching children thing, it made sense, in a weird Cas-like way. He hadn't liked the fact that the angel had been trying to find the answer in the bottom of the bottle, but Dean had stupidly assumed that it meant that Cas was finally ready to fess up what had happened to him after Dean and Benny had left the Purgatory.

To find out that it was all a lie, albeit one born from legitimate misunderstanding, hurt. After God/ Leviathan Castiel, Emmanuel, crazy Cas, and post-Purgatory Cas who kept having weird jarring moments, he just wanted to see his best friend acting like himself. Misha shouldn't have been the one to show this hopeful glimpse. 

Well, there was only one thing he could do in this situation. Dean was going to do his level best to get the actor go back home.


	3. Chapter 3

Misha was still splitting his hair on what to do when Dean came back with false sense of cheer. 

"Hey, I come bearing food," proclaimed Dean, doling out a pile of pancakes around the table.

"Thanks," said Misha. The circumstance was less than ideal, but he was grateful to have fallen near Dean and Sam at least. He shuddered a bit when he imagined how different things would have gone if he had woken up near Crowley or any other guys who wanted nothing more than to tear his counterpart apart.

With a small florish, Dean put down three bottles of beer. Finished with setting the table, he dragged a chair out and flopped himself down next to his brother. "Here," Dean inclined one of the bottles in Misha's direction. His small smile said, _it's a crazy, crazy world and we all could use a drink._

Misha frowned in concentration, testing the edge of his hangover. He told himself that he wouldn't drink, but surely few small sips wouldn't hurt anyone? His head gave out a warning throb. It was a no, then.

"Thank you, but-," he stopped mid-sentence, noticing that Dean's smile turned tense. He tilted his head a bit in question, but it made things worse. He could see the emotional wall practically slamming down. The abrupt change took him aback. He turned to check Sam's reaction for some kind of explanation. It didn't help. Sam seemed to be as lost as he was, shooting looks between the two of them. _What was that?_ Misha wondered, but salvaging the situation was more impotant. Hoping his voice would come out as casual and smooth as he intended it to be, Misha went onto say, "I'm still hungover, you know? I'm good here with this coffee." He raised his lukewarm cup of coffee. Operation Let's-pretend-that-nothing-just-happened-here was on. 

Dean relaxed a bit. "Suit yourself. More for me, then," he shrugged, equally casual. The Operation seemed to be working. Dean snatched up the extra beer to his side. 

"Seriously, Dean? We just woke up," Sam frowned.

"Dude, there are two universes that likes to turn our lives into entertainment business." After a dramatic pause and a glare, he added the next words with emphasis. "And that's without counting Chuck's books."

Sam raised his eyebrows, mouth pulled downward. Good point, his expression said, and he took the offered bottle without a fuss. Each nursed their respective drink for awhile. Misha was sure that all of them was contemplating how their lives turned into this. 

"So what were you two talking about while I was gone?" Dean asked, breaking the lengthy silence.

"Nothing," seeing the flat look directed at him, Sam raised a placating hand and added, "We were just waiting for you."

Dean flicked his eyes toward Misha. Misha could only provided a sheepish smile. Dean's mouth tightened, but soon he leant against the chair with deceptively languid air. "Man, I was gone for good hour or so. You guys are no fun." 

"Yeah, how dare we not gossip without you around," Sam rolled his eyes. "That aside, Misha, how did you come here? Were you doing somekind of mojo scenes back home?"

Misha thoughtfully chewed his food down. "You know what, that would actually make a lot of sense. But that's not what happened. The last thing I remember is drinking Osric's Mystery Mix."

"Osric?" Dean repeated with mouth full of pancakes while Sam looked at him in disgusted fascination. Misha had to admit, it felt a bit like watching West and Madison in the morning.

"Osric Chau, Kevin Tran's actor," Misha answered, ignoring the brief pang in his heart.

"You are serious," Dean swallowed. "Dude, does anybody have normal name in your world? Osric, really."

"Hey, don't diss Master Chau," Misha quipped in a comically offended tone. More neutrally, he added, "Anyway, we've got Richard, Robert and Marks in the crew, too. Not my fault that you just met the weird ones."

Dean opened his mouth but his little brother beat him to it. "Do you think the Mystery Mix was responsible for this, whatever that was?" It was good to have someone who would stop the conversation from derailing off the topic all together.

"I...doubt it?" Misha rubbed his neck. He thought back to the night. "It was just a drink, and Osric said that he had it before. If it was magical or something, you would have a prophet look-alike at your hand. Not me."

Sam looked disappointed. "Still, can you describe what it looked like? Just in case."

Misha hummed as he brought the mental image in his mind. "It was neon green color. Some small dots were floating around the drink.Very disturbing."

"Yet you drank it?" Dean seemed to be undecided on whether he sould sound admiring or disgusted.

"I was curious," Misha shrugged unashamedly. If Dean was being squirmish about a drink with a bit of odd color, he should have seen some of his GISHWHES items.

"We will try to find out if the Men of Letters got any information on that drink or dimensional travel," Sam said as he stood up. His eyebrows climbed up as Misha also started to follow him.

"It's my life on the line here, you know," Misha remarked dryly. "And you will be surprised to find out that I can actually read."

Sam had the grace to look sheepish. "I know, it's just that Cas usually don't help us with searching through books-" 

"Come on, Sammy," Dean cut him off abruptly, shooting up to his feet and striding out of the kitchen. "We'll research like whole happy bunch of geeks and send the guy home."

Misha raised his brow. Sam made an annoyed noise at the back of his throat and shook his head. With an apologetic smile, Sam gestured Misha to follow him. Heading to the library, Misha couldn't hold back on a heavy sigh. He had planned on discretely asking Sam about Cas' whereabouts since Dean tended to be more emotionally volatile when it came to the angel, but now the question seemed to be moot. Judging by Dean's attitude, Castiel was not answeing the his prayer.

That was never a good sign.

Research time it is, Misha wondered if he would have to pull all nighters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really didn't want to be written, it seemed. It was originally going to be Dean's Pov, but the guy was not feeling chatty, so Misha had to take over. Hope you like the story so far. Thank you for your lovely reviews :)


	4. Chapter 4

He got so spoiled by playing an angel, Misha thought as he flicked through the books. It was a pity he didn't share Castiel's fountain of knowledge. His eyes were begining to slide off the pages all together, fed up with the brain constantly telling them _Nope, not this one, sorry but try again._ He was only now realizing the extent of frantic hours the brothers must have put to get anything on their ridiculously powerful enemies. It was nothing new, but the TV shows were seriously misguiding. Misha ruefully acknowledged to himself that he was waiting for Sam to say 'Get this' and sprout out relevant information.

"Do you still remember Balthazar's spell?" Misha asked, struck by sudden inspiration. "Maybe if we tweak it so that it is connected to my universe instead of the other universe-"

"I thought about it as well," Sam replied apologetically. "But we never bothered to remember that spell since we had no real use for it." He lifted the book he was reading. "I was actually searching for that spell, but well. I'm not yet familiar with the Men of Letter's sorting system."

"Oh? When did you find this place?"

"About a week ago? Not for long, really."

"Ah," Misha responded weakly. So it was season 8. It was a relief to learn that he didn't need to worry about Gadreel, Abaddon, Metatron, and other fallen angels gunning for Cas, but fuck, he was smack in the middle of tipping point that led to season 9. The Trials. What the hell was he supposed to do?

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"I just-," think, brain, think. "Did Cas switch place with me? That, that would be disastrous."

Which, wasn't the most brilliant answer considering Dean's previous reaction toward mention of Cas, but it was still a valid point.

"Yeah- he's, not the most subtle guy," Dean nodded with surprising neutrality. It seemed the famous Stoic Dean Winchester Mask returned again. 

"I think people could shrug Cas' behavior for me being me for awhile," Misha commented lightly. He forcefully shoved down the image of Castiel coldly informing his children 'I'm not your father' and walking away. He put more humor into his voice. "Although the crew would get really suspicious when I stop laughing uproariously at every take."

"You, laughing?" Dean asked skeptically. "But you play Castiel."

"There lies the problem. The acting school never did warn me that I had to maintain serious face while someone was fondling my balls."

It took awhile for the words to sink in. The brothers didn't even manage to speak out their shocked response. The look on the their face was pure comedic gold.

"Wh-what?" Sam finally stuttered, recovering first.

"Exactly. That was my reaction. It was surprisingly distracting."

The former law student appeared thoroughly disturbed. "Isn't that, isn't that a sexual harassment?" Misha could see that Sam was wondering if he was being trolled. 

If only. The actor didn't even need to try on this one.

"It's Supernatural," Misha stated simply as if it explained everything. And it did, actually.

"How accurately does your show portray our lives?" Dean asked in morbid curiosity.

"I don't know," Misha shrugged. "If you're asking if the show deals with monsters, Apocalypse, Leviathans and etc? Then yes."

"And yet in midst of filming that... you... do that."

"I'm only doing the laughing part," a small pause. "And occasionally throwing a paper airplane at them for revenge."

"Man," Dean slowly shook his head. He seemed dazed. It was an accomplishment considering the number of unbelivable scenarios the man went through. "Your world is crazy." Misha inclined his head modestly.

-

After three hours of search with no result, their stomach began to grumble loudly. Sam offered to bring some sandwiches from the kitchen. Dean had the foresight to buy them in the morning.

It was surprisingly uncomfortable to be left alone with Dean. Jensen was fun and Misha had no problem with spending time with him both on and off the set, but dealing with _Dean_ was exhausting. He constantly felt like answering delicate questions that could hurt many feelings in Conventions, only hundred times worse because this was Dean Fucking Winchester himself. Misha was afraid that he was going to slip up soon.

"So, is there a way to contact Cas?" Dean asked, proving Misha's point. "You know, to check the switching theory." His voice was painfully casual.

"I have no idea. I'm sorry," Misha said sincerely. He only knew that Cas was going to be walking around being brainwashed until the crypt scene. He was fuzzy on the detail since a year had passed.

"Nothing on your script?"

"Cas usually... pops out of nowhere," Misha replied, feeling guilty for his omission but not knowing where to begin.

"Yeah, he tends to fly off."

The worry and bitterness was hardly masked. Or maybe it was easy to catch since Misha knew how Jensen acted as Dean. Misha wanted to offer comfort but he couldn't find the word. There was no tactful way to say _I'm sorry your friend had to be kept away from you because he can be deus ex machina that would make your life too easy._

"Hey, let's eat," Sam entered the library with a tray.

Misha was never more glad for the Interrupting Moose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was supposed to be a cracky one? I don't know what happened. It wants to be more plotty. So any thoughts/suggestions? What did you like? Help me out, please :) I could really use some R&R for my muse.


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone should call him Kevin freaking Solo, Kevin thought triumphantly. Well, he wasn't feeling particularly triumphant now since he was busy puking his guts out, but he deserved to feel triumphant. Closing the gates of Hell, Holy crap. He got dragged bloodily out of his ordinary life, kidnapped by both demons and angels, but he was clawing his way out of this madness. For the first time in a long time, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Found him," Kevin heard a dry voice of Dean Winchester informing his presence. "You okay there, kiddo?" The concern was a bit late in coming but Kevin was willing to take it. He tried to convey 'I'll be okay soon, give me a minute' with his vague hand gesture while he continued to worship the porcelain goddess. The fading footsteps told him it some how worked.

Kevin walked out of the toilet while he wiped his bloody nose. He raised his head to greet the brothers properly and found-

"Castiel?" He let out, bewildered. He soon turned weary. It was never a good sign when the Angel of the Lord appeared. Granted, Castiel did save him from Crowley one time, but the angel brought on bed news such as him being a Prophet or an angel being kidnapped before. "Why are you here?"

Castiel tilted his head and gave a wry smile. "I'm afraid I'm not him." 

That became apparent now that he took a second look. The voice and the clothes were different, but most importantly, there was no frantic madness or laser-like intensity in his eyes. Kevin could only ever see Castiel as an angel or at least some otherworldly being, but now he was thinking, _he looks incredibly human._

Kevin wrecked his brain for angel related information and asked, "are you- his vessel?"

"No, he is an actor from alternate universe," Dean deadpanned.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Kevin rolled his eyes. No one laughed. In fact, all three of them shifted uncomfortably. "Wait, seriously? Like Star Terk mirror universe?"

"Not technically," the not-Castiel-guy chimed in. He forced a smile as Kevin's eyes snapped toward him. "I'm not some other version of Castiel. I'm Misha Collins. I only play Castiel on the TV show called Supernatural."

"What TV show," Kevin inquired flatly. He swore, just when he thought his life couldn't get any weirder this kind of thing happened. Maybe a Prophet was an euphemism for being cursed.

"Oddly enough, there are alternate universes where people make a TV show out of Sam and Dean's lives."

"Universe _s_?" Kevin couldn't help but point out.

Dean grinned grimly, daring him if he honestly wanted more clarification.

Kevin turned back toward the bathroom without further ado. He wasn't listening to any more insanity while he was half delirious from the translation. He needed a shower.

-

"Holy crap, you're still here," Kevin groaned at the sight of the actor- Misha. He was hoping he made the whole thing up. "This was so not what I called you guys for," he gave Sam and Dean a long look. He wasn't some convenient mage that could whip up everything at their demand and he didn't appreciate this surprise guest. "You think I can do something about him?"

Sam looked abashed at least. "Not really, but Misha insisted on coming along."

They all turned their attention on the actor. Under their concentrated gaze, Misha sighed in resignation. "There is something I have to say about what Kevin had found."

"What?" Dean looked between Kevin and Misha. "What did you find, Kevin?"

"The way to close the Gates of Hell," Kevin replied, feeling cheated. This was supposed to be a joyous moment. Now there was no triumphant shouts to be found as everyone got the distinct impression that there was a catch.

"Are you telling us it's not a good thing?" Sam questioned cautiously, picking up on the omnious air.

"I don't know?" Misha shrugged. "I'm just saying, I know that you're all for actions, but please wait 'till the translation is over?"

"If you could be less cryptic," Dean crossed his arms, posture tense and stubborn look on his face. The Prophet groaned inwardly, hoping this wouldn't lead to needless posturing. He just wanted to get it over with. To his relief, the actor only held out his hands placatingly. 

"I'm being cryptic because I really don't know. I know that undertaking each Trial is going to damage the person on the level that even angels find it difficult to fix, but that's about it."

"What do you mean by a Trial?" Sam asked, and the brothers looked at the Prophet expectantly. Kevin began to feel like an elder in RPG game who chattered on and on with all the information he somehow gathered before sending the heroes to their quests. Originally, he had planned to share some quotes from the Tablet, but he no longer felt up to it. So he simply answered, "God built a series of tests, and when you've done all three, you can slam the gates."

"So, what," Sam looked incredulous. "God wants us to take the SATs?"

Kevin shrugged. He wasn't responsible for this. He was a Prophet, not God.

"It's kind of more lethal than the average SATs," Misha interjected, trying to put some levity in his voice but failing. "In the show, the Trials got aborted at the last second 'cause it was pointed out that God would want a sacrifice and the Trials would kill the tasker. No one knows for sure what really would have happened if the Trials were finished since the translation was incomplete."

Kevin didn't want to hear this. His heart sank as his tiny hope got crumpled to the ground. The idea of finally going back to his normal life was the only thing that kept him going, but now he couldn't persue this with the same doggedness. Even though he still had the burning need to shut the Gates of Hell for good, he couldn't stomache basically sending someone to death so that he could live his own life.

"And you were keeping quiet about this until now?" Kevin sensed the same frustration of foiled hope in Dean's voice. "Don't you think it's a bit important to know?"

"I didn't want to think about this. I just wanted to go home," Misha whispered softly with his head bowed, but Dean was having none of it. The hunter stalked toward the other man, mouth open and ready for a tirade. Misha raised his head as he sensed the on coming storm and it somehow snapped him. 

"Oh, fuck you," the actor surged to his feet, coming right at Dean's face. Kevin could see a glimpse of Castiel, the angel who threatened the King of Hell with wrath of Heaven, from the previously mild mannered guy. "Don't you get righteous on me, you freaked the hell out when you had to deal with Hollywoods. Me? I know all too well how high the death toll is around here. I'm trying my hardest not to think about how if I get killed here, my wife and kids would have no idea what happened to me." Dean looked like he got slapped. "So I'm sorry I needed more than 24 hours to sort out what the hell I was supposed to do in this fucked up situation," Misha exhaled sharply and the fight slowly drained out of him. He mussed up his hair exhaustedly. In a more subdued tone he continued, "you guys dealt with series of impossible situations that no one should have been asked to deal with. Despite having almost no time to think things through, you guys have done incredibly well. All I'm asking is that now that you have the time, actually read the damned manual first before you jump. You've got the time now, you don't have to take insane risks."

The actor swallowed hard at the ringing silence. "Excuse me," and the man went outside, but nobody dare followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the interactions between the characters were ok. Writing Kevin was new for meXD. Please give some feedbacks for me <3


	6. Chapter 6

Misha closed the door behind him and slid down the wall. Already, his head was cooling down and he regretted blowing up like that. It was cathartic, he couldn't deny that, but ultimately it solved nothing. He blamed his explosion on the long ride between the Men of Letter's Headquarter and the boat. He had too much time to build up his own panic.

The moment Dean had announced that it was Kevin who had called him, Misha knew that his time was up. The other shoe finally dropped and he could no longer put off revealing anything to the boys. Even in a state of shock and denial( _no not yet please not yet_ ) Misha realized that he had to do something fast before Sam and Dean actually embarked on the Trials. He had to be on scene whether he was going to stop them or not. 

He couldn't remember what kind of excuses he used to persuade the brothers to take him with them. What he could remember was hours he spent stewing in the backseat of the Impala, analyzing and re-analyzing what the best course of action could be. It caused things to crash down on him all over again, how he was stranded on this strange world with threats beyond his recognition looming over him.

Crowley killed all the people the Winchesters had saved just to use them as leverage. Samandriel got tortured and killed for information. Hell, the whole reason Kevin was living in the boat was because he had access to the knowledge in the Tablet. What would the players in Heaven and Hell do to Misha when they found about him?

He never signed up for this when he decided to play Castiel.

Misha dully banged his head against the wall. It was probably not a good idea to corner himself like this, but the thoughts kept popping up. 

He went back to the moment he had completely snapped. His defense had been already lowered after having to crush yet another hope from the exausted kid Prophet, and Dean coming down to berate him had simply ignited the fire. He had understood rationally that Dean was just reacting to his own disappointment, but the actor had not been emotionally equipped to deal with other people's shit at that point. Especially not when his residual exasperation at some of the brothers' harsh treatments toward Cas had flared up into a burning resentment at the confrontational attitude of Dean Winchester. It had been a wonderful time to have a character bleed.

With a sigh, Misha put his head between his knees. Having to deal with his own emotion was confusing enough. He didn't want to worry about the angel, too. After all, the guy was what, only being forced to kill the most important person in his life over and over again? Or probably only stuck in Misha's world with no power and no contact from his human friends.

Absolutely nothing to worry about.

The door opened with a squeak. "Hey," a hesitant voice greeted. Misha ignored it, and kept his head down. The door closed. He could hear shuffling sounds for a while.

"Um, so- you have kids?" 

It was frankly a lame thing to say after that long stretch of silence. Misha rolled his eyes and tilted his head up. "Yes. But if you're trying to apologize, I heard that saying 'I'm sorry' is the way to go."

Dean frowned, denial at the tip of his tongue. At the last moment, he seemingly deflated and said, "yeah, sorry."

The hunter hovered over Misha uncertainly, then with a small nod to himself went around the actor to sit next to him. "Though to be honest," Dean quirked his lips, testing water. "You didn't give me a chance to say anything really harsh."

Misha snorted. "Yeah, like I couldn't totally see what was about to come a mile away." The actor saw Dean's face closing off a bit and winced. "Sorry. It must be weird when I talk like I know you."

"Ah, well-," Dean turned his head uncomfortably, then visibly steeled himself. "Out of, uh, morbid curiosity, just how much do you-"

"Spend my time psychoanalyzing you?" 

"Not quite but, yeah, generally."

"Enough to make an educated guess about where you're coming from," the actor decided on that reply after some consideration, curling into himself a bit. "Sorry about blowing up on you. It had been a very stressful day."

Dean huffed in agreement. Misha grined. The smile slowly faded. He didn't want to break this fragile peace, but there was still a few things they had to talk about. The actor fixed his eyes on a far away point. "Do you still pray to Cas?" he asked quietly.

Misha could feel Dean stiffening and boring his eyes onto him, but didn't react to it. He waited patiently.

"Yeah," came the rough reply. "Why?"

"I still need some time to get my head straight, but Cas is in a ...bad place right now, if he hasn't switch place with me, that is. I don't think mentioning me to him would be a great idea but... you praying to him, I think it would help him."

It was difficult not to check Dean's reaction, but Misha didn't look. He didn't want to betray how conflicted he felt. While there was an urge to spill everything, a part of him questioned if he would do more harm than good by interfering like this. He didn't think he could articulate his feelings enough to make Dean understand.

".... Noted. You tell me as soon as you figure things out."

At this remark, Misha finally turned, surprised that Dean backed off. The man's face was difficult to read, for Dean already had enough time to compose himself. "Didn't want you to get all smitey again," the hunter shrugged casually.

Misha stared. 

"Thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reviews:) I would love to hear from you more. Hope you enjoyed the fic!


	7. Chapter 7

The door to the safe boat had been subjected to a vigorous work out today in a short amount of time. It was feeling accomplished. Usually, it got rather forlon and dejected as almost nobody ever visited and the resident Prophet had literally driven himself to the ground in his effort to translate the Tablet. What was the purpose of the door if everybody ignored it in favor of loking themselves up?

But today, there was firstly a visit from three people. And then, Misha stormed off. After that, Dean shuffled toward it. Sam soon followed his brother. And look, only Misha came back inside. That meant that the door could look forward to one extra use (two if lucky) when the brothers returned. It was very happy.

"Kevin?" Misha asked, a hint of worry showing in his eyes.

Kevin shook his head. It seemed he was in more serious condition than he had previously thought if he was reduced to idly composing epic feeling of the door. He inclined his head to show that he heard the actor.

"Where is the other two?" he inquired, not really interested in the answer.

"Grocery shopping," Misha answered as he took the seat next to him. "Sam went with Dean since he was more knowledgeable in 'healthy crap'."

Kevin thought that it was more likely that Sam was attempting to privately stage an emotional intervention, but whatever. He was glad that they were both out. He had a mixed feeling about them and didn't want to deal with them for a while. He drummed his fingers on the table.

"You okay there?"

"Yeah," Kevin tried to finish it there, but couldn't help bitterly adding, "why not? It's not like my way out had been just totaled."

"I'm sorry."

Kevin waved his hand. The sympathy was appreciated, but he couldn't look at the man in the eyes now. "I got used to shit keep happening to me. At least this time, I got some warning." 

He stared at the Tablet listlessly. He knew that translating it was still important. Closing down the Gates of Hell wasn't the only thing that the Tablet was good for. There could be other useful information like how to make a Demon Bomb. Maybe shutting down the Gates didn't require sacrifice at all, who knew. Yet, he couldn't summon the manic enthusiam that consumed him these few days.

"How about you," Kevin returned the question, feeling the need to take the topic away from him. "You okay with all these supernaturals being real thing?"

Misha looked at him for a moment, then chuckled. "You saw the shouting, didn't you?" 

"I don't know, you did better than me," Kevin briefly wondered if the actor already knew this story and what else he knew, but push the thoughts away for the sake of conversation. "I actually needed a paper bag to stop hyperventilating."

"I'm surprised I didn't need one as well," The man hmmed, considering. "The French Mistake kind of helped? Surely made the introduction phase smoother." At the questioning look he recieved he explained, "basically, Sam and Dean had been to the alternate universe where there were actors who played Sam and Dean."

That was some B rated Si-fi movie material right there. If fighting against both demons and angels wasn't gteat enough, that is. The Winchester brothers' lives were really fucked up. "So you met the guys before?"

"Not really. I played Misha Collins who met Sam and Dean from the alternate universe. You can say that I'm from another alternate universe," a pause. "That came out a lot more convoluted than I had intended."

Alternate Universe _s_ , of course. Dean was right. He didn't want to contemplate how many people in the multiple universes were entertaining themselves with his life.

"You know what, I can give you some insider information," The actor suggested slyly. The sudden mischievous look managed to drag Kevin out of his funk. He frowned, wondering what the man was implying. 

It suddenly hit him.

Kevin leant forward. "Are you offering blackmail material?"

"We'll see. How about we start with Master Chau?"

The grin was infectious.

-

When Sam came out to check on Dean and Misha, he had expected them to be boiling in tension. Instead, he found a fledgling sense of understanding between them. Realizing that his effort to compose a lecture that would actually reach his brother's thick skull had been for nothing was a bit of a downer, but it was a relief, too. It certainly made the ensuing shopping a lot easier.

"You sure we need all this... green?" Dean eyed the salad and fruits in shopping bags balefully.

"Dude, you were the one who said Kevin need to eat healthy."

"And don't think I don't feel dirty for that," the older man muttered but tossed the bags into the car trunk without further comments. Sam had a feeling that this easy concession from his brother was partly due to what Misha had screamed at him. It freshly brought to mind how Kevin had been once like the actor, hell still so angry and confused, for being dragged into this shitty hunter life. 

Maybe he was projecting, Sam conceded dully. After all, he was the one who had abandoned the kid for a year. During that year, he hadn't allowed himself to think about the supernatural, and Kevin by association. He had been all to aware of how much of an obsessive, vindictive bastard he could turn into in his brother's death. He would have ruthlessly bargained with any supernatutal creatures. The Trickster had shown it, Ruby had exploited it. By trying not to break the world yet again in his obsession, he had ruined Kevin's life. Sam had delivered his feeble apology with a promise to the kid that the Tablet was the way out. Now, it didn't seem as sure. How could he make up for this?

"Stop brooding, Sammy. I'm not gonna have a chick-flick moment with you," Dean commented as he pulled the car out of the market.

"I don't know, this feels almost domestic," the younger brother retorted reflexively. Dean glared at him, and it was a refleshing breath of normalcy.

As they approached the boat again, tension began to build in the younger man. He was apprehensive about what he would find behind the door. Neither Kevin nor Misha had been in a particularly happy place when the brothers left them. Being forced to be with a stranger wouldn't have helped their mood at all.

"Hope it won't be all too awkard first date in there," Dean commented, mirroring his concern. 

Sam shrugged. "Well, here goes," with that, he shouldered open the door-

And proceed to freeze in shock. The scene in front of him was something he had never seen - Kevin Tran breathless with laughter, half collasped on the chair.

And Misha Collins, the unfortunate universe hopper, was gleefully encouraging this. His blue eyes flickered toward the brothers as they slowly came into the main comartment in a trans-like state. "Oh, welcome back," the actor waved his hand.

"What the hack happened here?" Dean questioned, a freaked out expression on his face. 

Misha sent a quick look at Kevin, tilting his head toward the brothers. The kid had composed himself, but that small gesture was enough to set him off again.

It was curious, how a simple laughter could sound omnious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I would be writing Kevin&Misha fluff one day.. please let me know what you thought :)


	8. Chapter 8

Misha was glad that Kevin didn't lose the ability to laugh wholeheartedly even after the horrors he had seen. It had been painful to see the Prophet so somber and depressed when the actor was used to Osric being a cheerful ray of optimism most of the days.

"Nuh-uh, you can speculate all you want," with a smirk, Kevin fended off Dean's half-hearted attempt at finding out what had made him laugh so hard. To be honest, the actor hadn't told much about Sam and Dean. He thought needlessly antagonising them by bringing up their past humiliation would be unwise considering he was still keeping lots of secrets from them. Instead, he had gently guided his stories into shenanigans that happened on set. Jared and Jensen had done hilariously childish things without an ounce of shame, and Kevin seemed to take some second-handed satisfaction from replacing the actors with Sam and Dean in his imagination. He had been particularly stroked to find out that his alter-ego managed to dislocate Sam's alter-ego's shoulder. Misha sensed some issues there.

"Well, fine, keep on being smug," Dean rolled his eyes, giving up. "We'll be going."

"We are?" Misha asked, surprised.

"Uh- yeah? Does this place look big enough for four people, especially with the Sasquatch over there?" The hunter jerked his thumb at his brother.

"No, I mean, why are you leaving Kevin here?" Even as he spoke, Misha realized that he was once again interfering, but what the hell, he had already destroyed like half the plotline with his warning against closing the Gates of Hell. Might as well fight to give the kid some comfort.

"Because this is a _safe_ boat," Dean sounded confused. "Where else would we take him?"

"The Bunker?" Misha worked hard to keep the 'duh' out of his voice. Not that the result was great. His natural snarkiness won.

Dean's lips turned downward. He rubbed his mouth. "Is that what the other Sam and Dean did?"

"Well, no."

"If your idea is that great, why didn't they?"

Misha suspected that the fairly plausible, yet fouth-wall breaking answer would be somewhere along the lines of _The plot demanded Kevin to be taken by Crowley and the kidnapping could have hardly happened in the Bunker, so the Winchesters conveniently forgot about it_ , but that wouldn't be received well. Come to think of it, how did the continuity errors or literary licenses transferred in this world? Did the show created this universe, or did the writers' team have creepily prophet-like ability?

"I guess they didn't realize how safe the Bunker was. You would want to check for yourself, but believe me, that place is definitely safer than this boat," the actor settled on the answer, putting his questions aside.

"What Bunker?" Kevin interjected. A frown was once again etched on his face. He looked displeased to be excluded from the talk regarding him. Misha felt a bit guilty.

"The Bunker, it was the Headquarter of the Men of the Letters, a secret organization devoted to gatherng information on supernaturals," Sam explained. "Our grandfather was the member of the organization. We found the place about a week ago."

"Pretty spacey. The water pressure is fantastic," Dean quickly added, heading off further discussion about their grandfather or how they found the Bunker. "You wanna come?"

Kevin looked around the boat. His eyes roamed across the metal door and the dreary wallpaper, and lingered on the Tablet. His Adam's apple bobbed.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

-

Kevin called Linda to inform her of his change of place, and she told him to wait for her with no room for objection. She wanted to see for herself where he would be going. Dean could have put his foot down, told her to just come to the Bunker directly, but didn't. After what they found about the Tablet, the kid could definitely use some motherly support. He only hoped that no cops would catch her in her undoubtedly break-neck speed travel. The police wouldn't have survived the wrath of mama bear.

Unsurprisingly, she arrived in a record speed. After an enthusiastic hug, she whisked Kevin to her own car. The brothers and the actor got into the Impala, leading the way.

"How many people are we planning to bring to the bunker?" Dean griped. "It's not a freaking hotel," he squashed the small part of him that was pleased to have all the people close to him. He was not a hoarder.

Sam gave a small shrug in reply, but Misha didn't react at all. He stared ahead right through the window with a far-away look, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

Uncomfortably reminded of the man's family, Dean asked, "what the hell did you tell Kevin?"

"Huh?" 

"Kevin. He couldn't even breathe. What was that all about?"

"I don't kiss and tell," Misha replied absently. "Let's just say our time together was very informative in a thought provacating way."

Dean sputtered, caught off guard at the suggestive tone. Even though the guy didn't act like Cas most of the time, he somehow expected him to act certain way. He floundered like he had never uttered far more dirty thing in his life.

Misha came into focus when no further comment could be heard. "Don't tell me you're offended by that."

"Nah," Dean said, recovering. "Just wondering what the hush hush is all about."

"I bet the only reason Kevin is not telling us is 'cause you are needling him about it," Sam teased.

"Shut up," Dean didn't glare as hard as he could have. He was glad that his faux pas had gone unnoticed.

Sam grinned, but it soon faltered as his face deepened into the constipated look that signaled that he was debating with hinself. Coming to a decision, he said, "speaking of telling us, Misha, thank you for warning us about the Tablet." 

"Sam-" Dean started, not wanting to broach any serious topic for a while. But the stubborn brother he was, Sam forged on. "You didn't have to come with us all the way here. We know how dangerous it could be for you since you look like... because of the way you look. So thanks."

Misha scrubbed the back of his neck, way beyond uncomfortable. "I don't think I deserve that. You guys are helping me. Besides, I'm not, I-," he closed his eyes. "I don't even know what I'm doing. I feel like I'm gonna make everything even worse by telling you stuff."

"How come?" Sam asked cautiously.

"I've seen too much of 'good intentions bringing the end of the world' happening in this world. Also, I don't know enough about the big picture. It could complicate things worse for you."

"Whatever intelligence we could get would be good," Dean couldn't help but suggest, despite his vow to wait the guy out. He knew it was hypocritical of him, but he was never good with others keeping secrets from him.

Misha sighed. "I'm only an actor. Lots of things are kept away from me. When I auditioned for the role, I was even told that Castiel was a demon."

"But he's an angel," Sam exclaimed, dumbfounded into stating the obvious.

The actor nodded. "The writers didn't want anyone to know that angels were going to be introduced. They didn't want to ruin the surprise."

Fuck surprises. He had enough back stabbing, yanking the rug under one's feet surprises to last for his life time. He wanted to rant a bit, but his brother stopped it with a look.

"I undestand," Sam ducked his head. "Sorry to bring the issue up again. You must still be overwhelmed about our world. Believe it or not, I really did just want to thank you."

Misha smiled tiredly. "I appreciate it. Believe it or not, I really want what is best for you guys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely reviews! You guys keep me going :) Anu suggestions for the fic is welcome. I lovelistening to you guysX)


	9. Chapter 9

Dean tossed and turned in his bed. Exasperated, he pulled himself up. For past few days, all he had done was research, research, and more research. It was driving him up the wall, worse because brief spark of anticipation caused by Kevin's call got unceremoniously snuffed out. Closing the Gate of Hell was on hold until the Prophet read all the fine prints. The thought of taking on the burden anyway did occur to him, but Misha's frustrated warning was enough to make him reconsider. He didn't want to be hit with other nasty side effects at the last moment. 

The other project, which was to return the actor home, was no less frustrating. Suffice to say, if Dean got another chance at time travel again, he would throttle whoever was last responsible for the Men of Letters archive. Translation and categorization, people. Those were important. 

He kicked the blanket off of him. He had to take care of his nervous energy. He stopped at the tasty smell wafting through the air. Although he had originally planned to take his Baby out for a drive, he couldn't resist the smell and followed his nose, curious. It led him to the kitchen.

His feet slowed, surprised to find how lively the place looked. Bowls, pots, plates and other stuffs he didn't even know existed in the Bunker were littered around the table, with a kid Prophet pottering around to clean them up. His brother, on the other hand, was making even more mess, ransacking the fridge. Beyond them, Misha was serenly stirring something.

"Why are you cooking at this god forsaken hour?" The question tumbled out of his mouth.

"Hey, Dean, you're late," Kevin waved at him. "It's Insomniac Cooking Hour. Which means 4 o'clock in the morning is totally saken. "

There was something manic about the kid. Dean wondered if he was beginning to embrace the role of annoying little brother seriously. It was both heart warming and terrifying.

"Should I be calling Linda on you? You seem kinda high."

"Nonsense, our spaghetti is perfectly drug free," Misha tasted the sauce. "Ish."

"Was it your hand?" Sam quipped while preparing for salad. "I'm pretty sure all of us are made of caffeine at this point."

"Nah, I'm not contagious yet. Kevin?"

The kid spread his hands innocently. "I plead the fifth."

The scene was ridiculously domesticated, yet unsettling. Kevin and Misha joking with each other, Dean could get behind that. It had been only three days since the actor and the Prophet met, but they clicked in an unexpected way. Apparently, getting sucked by the whirlwind that was the Winchester life was a great bonding material, especially when you were all but quarantined because both Heaven and Hell would positively salivate at your sight. But Sam... what the hell happened here? 

"What brought this on?" Dean pointed at his brother. "You suck at cooking."

"But I can boil water and chop things," Sam replied, not bothering to look offended. He seemed rather cheery, on the contrary. "Misha did most of the work." 

"Yeah, and hunger was a great motivation," Kevin added, handing out plates with pastas on them to the esteemed cook. A generous scoop of sauce got poured on to each of them. "Sam woke up to get something from the kitchen, but found Misha and me in the library about to puke at the sight of more letters. One thing led to another, and we decided to make something more fancier than dried out bread."

"The magic of insomnia," Misha finished with flourish.

Dean felt a bit left out. By the sound of it, they didn't plan to exclude him on purpose, and the lack of Linda on scene proved their innocence. It still soured his stomach. The sight of Misha, so comfortable with both Sam and Kevin, caused a shimmer of image to rise. A wrenching feeling in the gut told him that it wasn't supposed to be that guy here but C-

"You guys seriously need sleep if this is what you came up with," Dean felt the need to mock, although the result was feeble at best.

As expected, Sam looked unimpressed. "So you're not gonna eat?" 

"... I didn't say that."

-

Misha leaned against his chair, taking in the peaceful scene around the table. _Good luck_ , Kevin sent him a glance over forkful of noodles and Misha replied with a grin of his own. He appreciated Kevin's idea to get him relaxed. Operation Fuck-the-Books-Let-Us-Just-Cook was a rousing success in that it managed to put Sam and Dean in a more positive spirit. He solely needed all the good mood in the world for what he was about to do. He put things off as much as he could, but sensing that the meal was coming to an end, he cleared his throat. 

"I know who brought Cas back from the Purgatory," Misha said without preamble. If he were to procrastinate, he might back out without spitting the fact out. The tinkering sound of forks stopped. Misha almost couldn't breathe, anticipation building. This was the moment he had obsessively calculated over and over these past few days when he wasn't pouring over texts to go back home. There was no way to be sure whether or not he was doing the right thing, but he couldn't back out now. Kevin's presence in the Bunker showed him that it wasn't in him to just sit back and watch. He prayed his interference would work out better than Cas's had been.

The stares he was receiving was prickling. Kevin, who had been informed that Misha would drop the bomb today beforehand but hadn't been told much about the details, was showing interest as well. 

"Who?" Dean questioned sharply. 

Misha licked his lips. "Angels. Naomi ordered his rescue."

Sam frowned. "I thought Angels were pissed at Cas."

"Yes, but he has reputation for having done impossible. Since the civil war is ongoing upthere, my guess is that Naomi planned to use him to win the fight in Heaven."

"Civil war? Raphael is dead." 

As he watched Dean's face clouding over, Misha could practically hear Cas saying _Dean doesn't need to know this_ in his head. The angel was all too aware of how damaged and dangerous his family was and always tried to keep the Winchesters safe from them. The actor oddly felt like he was betraying his character by burdening the brothers with this information, but consoled himself with the knowledge that they wouldn't want to be spared anyway if it was going to hurt their friend. Season six, he silently told his mental Cas. Communication was important.

"Unfortunately, that's the problem. Angels want to follow someone, and all the archangels are gone. So angels are fighting over who would take control of Heaven, creating fractions. Naomi leads one of them."

"What, those dickheads want Cas to help them again? After how they treated him?" There was genuine outrage in Dean's voice. Misha felt warm on behalf of the angel. Cas, who had too much guilt and too little self-esteem these days, really could use hearing this. On the flip side, it didn't help the actor at all on keep on with rest of his speech. At the moment, he sympathised with every doctor out there who had to pass devastating news to patient's family.

"Naomi had the means to acquire Castiel's cooperation," Misha sighed, his tongue leaden. "She is brainwashing him."

"Brainwash?" Kevin repeated, incredulity marring his youthful face. "But...angels.. he's one of them." 

Misha could hear whatever myth about angels the kid had been subconsciously clinging to shattering. It was sad thing that the difference between demons and angels were so thin in this world. Sam, who knew more than anyone what it was like to have his autonomy snatched away from himself, grimaced in horror. 

"Naomi believes that she is fixing him," Misha lowered his eyes. He wasn't trying to excuse her behavior, but he thought they might as well know how the other side was operating. "She is taking advantage of his need for penance." 

"Penance, I'm fucking sick of that word," Dean swore thickly to himself. He shook his head and jumped toward the solution. "How do we fix it?"

The crypt scene flashed in the actor's mind. Jensen and he had to wreck their brains together to make the scene work, to convey all the raw emotion. Showing it was hard enough, but now Misha found that it was even harder to reduce it into few words.

Of all the people, why did he have to talk about this to _him_?

"The last time, uh, the future time?" Misha scratched the back of his neck, stumbling over words. "Anyway, it was kind of, combined force of you and the Angel Tablet at work." _Real eloquent, Misha,_ he mentally chided himself. His best effort sounded dry as a desert.

"Me?"/"Angel Tablet?" Dean and Sam exclaimed at the same time. They stared at each other, then the younger brother cleared his throat. "There is an Angel Tablet as well?"

"Yes, and sadly, Crowley knows it exists and Naomi knows that he knows. They're both searching for it. If Cas hadn't switched place with me, he would be hunting demons for information."

"Fuck," Dean raked his hand through his hair. "How do we find him?"

Misha shrugged. "In my world, you guys were investigating someone killing demons and stumbled into him."

"Find demon killings, find Cas. Convenient."

"Maybe we should try to find the Tablet first, or whatever means to snap an angel out of mind control," Sam suggested, his brain working rapidly. "If Cas is in Misha's world, we might not be able to find him here."

Kevin sent a worried glance at Misha. "Guys, can we do all that now? I'm not saying we should ignore Cas, but all the additional research... we've been buried in books for days already."

Dean opened his mouth, ready to snap, but one look at the actor silenced him. Guilt was evident in his expression. They both knew who would come first to him.

Wryly, Misha smiled. It wasn't as if he didn't figure out that the brothers' attention would be diverted the moment he finished relaying what information he had. "How about you call for reinforcement?"

Dean looked at him almost gratefully. "Who are you suggesting?" 

Oh, the writers are going to kill me if they see me stomping all over the storyline like this, was the amused thought in Misha's mind. Lightly, he asked,

"Do you have Charlie's number?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support, I was amazed! I would love to continue to hear more from you guys :)


	10. Chapter 10

Apparently, Charlie underestimated the weirdness that was the Winchester life. She should have figured that one out when they showed up to tell her that her ex-boss was a flash chomping monster and LARPing ground turned into a murder novel, but well, she thought those were special circumstances, even for the boys. 

Evidently not, if Carver Edlund's _Supernatural_ was anything to go by. Those were just regular Tuesdays for them.

Charlie hadn't guessed that Sam and Dean from the series were identical to the Sam and Dean she knew, not at first. She had no reason to suspect it, since she had only stumbled upon it while digging through supernatural mythology. The speech pattern rang a little too familar and hey, they also had an Impala but what of it? 

It hadn't been until the appearance of the prophet Chuck that everything finally begun to click into place. 

"Oh, shit," Charlie had said, almost dropping the tablet she had been holding. Of course, there was still a chance that the book wasn't based on reality, but she had seen far too much to dismiss it as nothing but fantasy.

 _Winchester Gospel._ Holy shit, what the fuck had she been reading?

After that, she felt a bit guilty as she turned the pages, feeling like a creep reading her friend's very detailed diary, but she couldn't stop. The story itself had her hooked, and she needed to know how things would turn out for Sam and Ruby like ASAP. 

She lied back on her bed as she finished reading the last book. Finding out that the Apocalypse had already come and gone while she remained ignorant was very illuminating. Disillusioning as well, since only handful of angels seemed to be capable of not acting like total dicks. 

How could she have not suspected any of this massive shit storm happening in her life? In retrospect, the weather had been funky as hell in 2009, but she had just shrugged it off. It was sobering how the world from _The End_ verse could have actually become her reality, and how she would have no idea what was going on if that had been the case. 

She sprang herself from the bed and started to make a crude data base for supernatural signs with fan site as a source. Obviously, she would have to double-check the information later, but she needed to make something right now to make herself feel better. 

Suddenly, her phone rang, startling her out of her focused state. She groped it close to her. Dean. Her stomach flipped.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked somewhat nervously, the whole unfortunate tale of Winchester history still swirling inside her head.

"Can't I call my favorite Queen for nothing?" Charlie gave Dean B+ for effort, but it still fell flat. "Hey-uh, listen, are you busy right now? Because if you are-"

"Dean," Charlie cut in. Dean's nervous undertone made her nervous. "Is this another Dick Roman situation?"

"No," Dean was quick to assure her. "No, not really. It's more like, all hands on deck situation, but non-fatal one yet. Like I said, if you're busy, than that's fine."

The word 'yet' was frankly far from reassuring. Also, if she had learn one thing from finishing the series, it was that 99% of _I'm fine_ coming from either one of the brothers was bullshit.

"I've got plenty of time on my hand. So shoot," her eyes flickered toward the tablet shining on her bed. "Actually, why don't I pop in? If it's all hands on deck situation, it'll be better if I'm close, right?"

"I- You sure?"

Charlie blinked. The situation must be more serious than she had thought if Dean was caving in this quickly.

"Of course," she said cheerily. "So I know you're in Lebanon, but where exactly is your place?"

\---

Batcave, as Dean had affectionately called it, was an interesting place. The tale of the Men of the letters was something that could have come straight out of _Da Vinchi Code_ , but the people in the Bunker were far more mind blowing.

"Wait, but I thought Chuck was the Prophet?" She asked after she was introduced to the Tran family.

Sam stilled, a look on his face saying that his mind was on a graveyard full of looming monsters rather than a cozy bunker. "How do you know about Chuck?"

"Well, after you guys left, I dug into all things monsters deep enough to stumble on books by Carver Edlund. Does _Supernatural_ sound familiar to you?" She watched as a look of horror began to spread on Dean's face as well. _So it was all true_ , she was about to say, but Kevin beat her into it.

"Hey, wasn't your show called _Supernatural_?" Kevin remarked, turning toward the blue- eyed guy she hadn't been introduced yet.

The guy shrugged. "The writers thought that it would be funny if _Supernatural_ existed inside the show as well, so-"

"Um, what show are we talking about?" Charlie piped in, looking back and forth between the two of them. 

Dean groaned. He looked very much like he wanted out of this conversation, but also part resigned. "Charlie, meet Misha Collins. He's an actor playing Castiel in alternate universe. He's the reason we called for your help, actually. We need to send him home but we also need to find Cas and shut the Gate of Hell."

Charlie stared at Dean blankly, trying to piece together all the information she received in her head and failing. What finally came out of her mouth was, "what the fuck is even your life?"

Dean grumbled. "Tell me about it," he didn't look hot for prividing elaborate details.

Truth be told, that was a problem since his brief explanation failed to make her understand anything. Then again, she got that they were busy. 

"You better explain in details later on. But meanwhile, what do you need me for?"

Sam gave her a grateful look. "Can you help us search for demonic signs and death by odd stab wounds? We're looking for Cas." 

"I can make some program for it," she mentally calculated lists of websites she would have to make the program monitor. "Yup, won't take long. Anything else?"

"Lots and lots of reading, dear," Linda Tran, who had gone to the kitchen to fetch an army of coffees, said as she returned to the map room. "No tech support for that."

Charlie's eyes swept through books strewn over the table. Research without search engine, that was a nightmare right there. 

"After the crisis is over, we are so digitalizing everything."

Sam fervently agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, over 100 kudos, I'm so happy and amazed! Together with the magic that was the 200th episode, it really made me motivated. 
> 
> I kept worrying that I was making everything too fluffy, but I decided to just embrace it. Season 10 would definately put me on a roller coaster, and I needed some comfort. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, too x)


	11. Chapter 11

Misha stepped back from the stress filled environment that was the library with the guise of fetching up another round of coffee (He had to win rock paper scissors for this, as everyone wanted an excuse to back away from the research). His vague memory informed him that too much caffeine intake could actually kill a person, but he figured seasoned research all nighters like the Winchesters and Kevin would warn him before they reached the limit. Then again, they were also seasoned pros in declaring, 'I'm fine', so maybe Misha had to be more careful.

He ambled over to the kitchen and found Charlie typing over the laptop, headphone over her ears. He was surprised for a second, but come to think of it, she had wanted to work outside of the library so that she wouldn't disturb anyone with her click clacking. Kitchen was as good a place as any.

"Hey," he tapped the surface of the table to get her attention. 

"Oh, hi," she smiled, taking off her headphone. She seemed startled but not unwelcome. "What's up?"

"I'm the proud winner of the coffee errand contest. Just wondering if you want one, too."

Charlie looked down at her mug critically, and shook her head. "Thanks, but no, I don't want to overdose yet."

"Fair enough." Misha turned to the coffee pot and found it to be empty. It was the first time in his life that he was grateful for that. 

"Oh!" Charlie exclaimed suddenly, twisting to look at Misha. "You've got to wait a bit before the coffee percolates, right?" 

"Yes?"

"Then could you give me more details about what Castiel'll be doing? Dean was a bit vague." 

"Sure," Misha said as he finished all the steps except for the waiting. "What can I do?"

"I just hacked into every police databank in US. My current search criteria is sulphur and stab wounds, anything else I should add?"

Misha had to marvel at the unflinching violation of the federal laws. He wondered if he could bounce off few GISHWHES ideas with her after the things settled down. He was pretty sure she would be able to get more than 'leave us alone' message from NASA. 

"Um, the eyes might be burned out?" Misha hazarded a guess, trying to remember the details from over a year ago.

"Burned out, like Pamela Barnes?"

"Like two black, smoking eyes."

Charlie pulled a face."Alright, burned out eyes."

"And perhaps many stab wounds, around hands and stuff. Cas's gonna be interrogating." 

"He's interrogating?"

"Yeah, he's searching for the Word of God."

Charlie raised her brows but moved on. Misha was finding that the Winchesters had that effect on people. "Truth is stranger than fiction, alright, noted." 

"Oh, and another, you might not find anything yet because I kind of messed up with the timeline."

Charlie's hands stopped. "You know, you could've opened this whole conversation with your last sentence so I wouldn't suffer from crippling sense of insecurity upon my failure."

"I thought you'd figure out for yourself that I was forgetting something when you couldn't find anything," Misha deadpaned, then smiled ruefully. "To be honest, it just popped into my mind when you talked about fiction. I forgot to count that in. _Supernatural_ is just a series of events for me."

Charlie made a thoughtful expression. "Just so you know, I'm experiencing a thorough fourth wall, or fifth wall smashing, and dying to discuss more meta madness, but restraining it by my sheer professional integrity."

"I admire your professional integrity."

Charlie flashed a grin. "So, any chance of guessing where we're regarding the original time line?"

"None at all," Misha shrugged apologetically. "And I'm sorry that I seem to be heaping on more problems without giving answers, but do you think you can find a place where a demon is being tortured? We need to find Meg."

"Meg?" Charlie did a double take. "Like, the demon who possessed Sam before? Azazel's daughter?"

Misha was pretty sketchy on the contents of the show before season 4, but that sounded about right. "Yes, she- uh, kind of developed frenemy state at later seasons. We need to find the Lucifer's crypt for the Word of God, and she's the only one who knows the location."

"Can't we just skip the finding Meg phase and go directly to looking for the crypt stage?"

"We could, if I remembered anything about the crypt or if I hadn't shot the scene in Vancouver instead of in location."

Charlie sighed. "I really, really don't want to deal with Meg. I liked her as a character but I don't want her near me."

"Understandable, but I don't think neither of us would have to see Meg in person." 

But on second thought, would Meg survive this time? He liked his scene with Rachel well enough and had been sad to see her go, but he didn't know how the adventure in the crypt would have turned out if Crowley hadn't come in and killed her. Meg and Cas seemed to have been written as developing some mild crush on each other, but that didn't mean Meg wouldn't show her ruthless streak once again if it served her purpose. If she ever got an inkling about something as powerful as an Angel Tablet... In any case, he might try to throttle Sam and Dean if they ever brought her here 'because it seemed like a lesser evil'. 

"Besides," Misha continued as he thought through his situation. "None of that will even matter if Cas actually switched place with me."

"I don't know which will make things easier to handle, Castiel being here or there," Charlie hmmed. "Anyway, I'll look into it. I expect glorious storytime in return for this."

Misha grinned. "I look forward to that."

The machine beeped, providing perfect ending for their little chat.

Misha poured coffee into five mugs. He wondered if he should make two trips or find a tray from somewhere. He saw Linda using it before, but where was it now?

"Here, I'll help," Charlie said before he could choose. She grabbed two mugs. "It's my turned to wait for some results."

"Thanks," he nodded and balanced the rest of them in his hands.

The moment he stepped in, four heads perked up at his direction. It was a bit funny to see.

"You sure took your sweet time," Kevin griped. Misha had told him he would choose scissors in the final match and the prophet, after gauging at him and his trolling grin suspiciously, chose paper. Kevin had grumbled about developing trust issues within this household.

"Keep the attitude and you'll be the last to receive the coffee," Misha informed him loftly.

"You know I like you the best, Misha." 

"That's more like it," Misha placed the mug into the grabby hand, and gave another one to Linda.

"I smell favoritism," Sam accused lightly.

"You deny the awesomeness that is the Trans?" Charlie challenged, backed by Linda's raised eyebrow. Sam wisely argued no more. 

They had an unofficial coffee break until Linda squinted down at her text and questioned, "you know, how helpful should the information be before I share it with the class?"

"You found something?" Dean's head snapped up. 

"Yes, but as I said, it doesn't look very helpful."

"That's more than we've got. Do share."

"Alright, bear in mind that this is written in Middle English and I more or less skimmed through it. I'd have paid better attention to my Middle English class if I had known lives depended on my ability to read it," she said, lifting a thin little battered book held together with leather cord. "Someone was a bit.. obsessed about angels, it seemed. Wrote down a heated argument about how the angels obviously existed and not just in the Bible," she flipped down several pages. "The guy was a vessel material and a psychic was able to contact some angel through him. The angel came down after a decade of trying, and if you cut down all the flowery bits, essentially told them to stop bothering it. Apparently, the psychic had been very loud, and the angel told him to be grateful that it didn't use its real voice or form to warn him away."

"Yeah, sounds like them," Dean muttered. 

"But being very determined to the point of coming off suicidal, the psychic somehow convinced the angel to have a few words with him. Do you know any angel named Anael?"

"I think that the name of the angel who Fell to become human? I liked her," Charlie sighed wistfully, then went _yikes._ She glanced at Sam. "Um, that was before she tried to erase you from your existence, of course. Sorry about that."

"No, no, I liked her, too," Sam reassured. "It just.. Heaven doesn't seem to work favorably to the human friendly angels."

Linda looked between them. "I'm starting to think that I should read that _Supernatural_ books. If nothing else, they seems to be very informative."

"Please don't," Sam and Dean pleaded in unison. 

Without any promises, Linda went back to the topic. "So the angel and the psychic argued a bit about free will and fate and how free will works if the fate is in its place. The angel said that all roads led to the same destination but the details could alter. That the universe is woven togetger with different worlds made of different choices, although there're certain sealed or connected? points. The psychic asked if he could see how else his life could turned about and the angel said that angels weren't allowed to meddle with humans in anyway. The psychic persisted, asked for another way, but the angel said that only angels had the power for it, told him to desist in his hopless persuit and never came back."

The six of them remained quiet as they processed the information.

"In other words, I'm stuck here unless some helpful angel give me a get out of jail ticket," Misha said at last. He aimed for levity, but didn't know where it landed. "Do you know any of them, who specifically don't have anything against Castiel or you guys?"

"Well, there is Cas..." Dean hedged. Sadly, that was the end of the rather short list of reliable angels.

"And if he's in my world?"

"Then we'll find a way. Meanwhile, we search for Cas here," Dean employed that confident note of finality he used when he was feeling like being driven into a corner. Misha thought that he would've been a lot more reassured by that tone if he hadn't played Castiel for so long. Then again, he was sure he wouldn't be here in the first place if he hadn't played Castiel.

Not particularly heartening, but it won't do any good to rail against them now.

"I guess we'll have to look for Meg after all," Misha smiled tiredly at Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support! My muse had been really fickle about this story but I was able to write some more because of you guys. I welcome any feedbacks :)


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